


Free-Dive

by trufflemores



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Happy Speedsters, Hurt/Comfort, Meta, Speed Force, Whump, speedsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9573815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufflemores/pseuds/trufflemores
Summary: Companion piece to "Coterie." In two years, Jesse, Wally, and Barry are a crime-fighting pack of speedsters.





	

Syncing up Speed is like free-diving in Antarctica.

The key is to slow down gradually together – like putting a horse through its motions, Walk, Trot, Canter, Gallop – or they'll freeze their unsuspecting partners in the present. It doesn't drastically change their crime-fighting effectiveness if the difference is degrees, but synchronicity is essential for effective communication. Try holding a meaningful conversation with a partner who speaks half as fast as you do. It's doable, but it's not gonna cut it when lives are on the line.

Jesse knows exactly how fast she is, can slow down with astonishing precision to hundredths of a mile per hour, cramming real-time hours into Speed-seconds. That's the irony: Speed is _slow_. From the outside, she can watch recordings of their antics and see how others perceive them, too fast to follow, a blur. The opposite effect is true for her: when she runs, everything appears in starker contrast, time milling glacially onward and giving her a chance to observe her surroundings. She can see the ground give way, the bullet leave its muzzle, the bomb detonate on the bad guy's chest. To paint in impressionist blurs would cost lives. Speed Force is a chance to stand still and fight, to move so fast the rest of the world slows down.

Her relationship with Speed Force is somewhat arctic, on the cooler side: slowness is her forte. The faster she can go, the slower she can make the rest of the world. It's difficult to sustain – she can only stay in Speed-time for a forty-eight-hour equivalent before her muscles start to scream – but it's effective in bursts of a few Speed-hours.

Wally's relationship with Speed Force is different. She can feel the positive feedback loop that sustains him, but she doesn't speak the same language that he does with Speed Force, isn't in on their unique relationship. In essence, she can hear them talking, but she can't understand what they're saying. To her the words aren't important; it's tone that matters. She can tell when he's about to go nova and tear into the nearest speedster, when he's lazy with pleasure over a big stack of pizzas or a sun-warmed grassy patch to lounge in, when he's upset or scared or utterly calm, achieving a breadth of emotions invisible to the naked eye.

Barry? Is impossible to read. Jesse and Wally both communicate with Speed Force with conversational transparency; from the outside, Barry doesn't seem to communicate with Speed Force at _all_. Jesse knows he does, knows it intuitively from the sheer nature of his abilities – no Speedster is without _Speed Force_ – but she can't understand the dynamic he has with it. At times, she has the eerie, unshakable impression that he _is_ Speed Force, a human manifestation of that Great External Other that can't be transcribed into their world, staring at her with golden eyes that mask absolutely nothing.

He smiles when she dares to ask him one night if he's human or Speed Force. Standing on a rooftop together, he looks right at her when he says, "Both." When he places a hand on her shoulder, she feels its dual presence, warmth-like-lightning coupled with human kindness, its killing power kept in check.

Vibe sums it up best: "It's like he has two souls." He never seems fully comfortable next to a Flashed-out Barry, aware of all that killing power _unchecked_. There is no sense of human restraint in that storm of Speed Force. Flash could destroy them.

Barry would die for them.

Some versions do. Older versions, that is. He's the most prolific time traveler – Jesse has no doubt it's that infinite sustaining him that lets him flit back two hundred years and spend an evening with them, twenty years to breakfast at sunrise, a few months to warn them of an impending catastrophe. She wonders how many dominoes he tips to stop the dominoes from falling, if his future self kicks his past selves for their hubris.

Occasionally, delightfully, _her_ future self will arrive. She always seems surprisingly well off, scarcely aging a day in forty, fifty, eighty years. Whereas progressively older Barrys walk more slowly and favor their left leg, she's kept her stamina and good health. Her older selves gravitate towards the contemporary Wally and Barry, clearly interested in her but clearly invested in _them_. Their Speeds don't sync up – the contemporary Jesse has the impression that her older self is accustomed to a faster Wally and a slower Barry, striking a chord between them – but they work well together. When the older Jesse leaves, she can feel her contemporary partners straining to follow, instinctively drawn to complete the triumvirate.

Older Wally is her favorite. He's a war horse, tough and trustworthy. His eyes are so soft when he looks at her, his affection so genuine it breaks her heart. It's an affection that bleeds pain, a confession in the gentleness of his hands on her back: _I never thought I'd see you again_. Older Barrys never seem ashamed, but older Wally seems somewhat embarrassed to have arrived in her present, like he's invited himself to the party unprompted.

Jesse and Barry do their best to show that they don't mind, Jesse helpfully chiming in that at least twelve different versions of Barry have already visited them, setting Wally's shoulders at ease. When he asks about her, he hesitates, but she doesn't let it faze her: yeah, her future self was here, too. Seemed to be in her mid-sixties. A bright, painful spark of hope burns in the older Wally's eyes.

When he leaves them, Jesse thinks she's improved his quality of life. She doesn't know how, but she didn't major in five subjects as a talking point. She didn't survive in his timeline. It's clear in his face, his posture, the needy way he stands next to her but never presses the point with a kiss, respecting her Wally's territory. Her Wally, for his part, seems sobered.

Barry shaves years off his life to spare Iris', but it hadn't occurred to Jesse that Iris isn't the only one in love with a speedster who has reason to fear for her future.

Sitting on the edge of a cliff, Jesse waits for the boys, the fresh, gloriously clear air of her own Earth like stardust in her lungs. There's a nice breeze and a familiar lilac smell, coupled with cresting purple clouds over a foggy horizon. It's their spot – a place to regroup, a place to come together – and Wally and Barry will be there. Sooner or later.

She smiles. Their Earths sync up pretty nicely, but whether it's five in the morning or five in the afternoon, Barry's late. She has no doubt that Wally's chomping at the bit, dragging the big guy out of bed and reminding him that they're already actively late. If they arrive in the next hour, she'll consider it on time.

Slowing her breath, she sinks into a meditative stupor, letting the grass around her still. With joyful anticipation, she lunges to her feet, graceful, aquatic, like the atmosphere was constructed to lift her up. Her posture shifts to the tip of her toes, balletic, ready to launch.

Three …

_Or is it six? Is her Speed Force Someone, too? Is Wally's?_

Two …

She knows it from a distance, but it's her heartbeat, her very breath, the momentum pushing her until she's ready to run—run—run, Jesse—!

One.

She takes off.

There is no resistance.

. o .

Wally has always been better at syncing up with her speed. She hears him coming, only just, and dances away. He skids and recovers, setting up a true chase. When speedsters run, it's not unlike non-speedsters playing tag. Relative to him, they're flat-out running, moving fast in Speed Force, not inhumanly – the rest of the world just stands still and watches with ethereal pride.

She catches a glimpse of a statue watching them from the hill, a monkish figure in all red, and she likes that her suit is a mix of theirs, that Wally's bleeds red, too. He's a perfect Yin-Yang, meeting in the middle, allegiance caught between the yellow lightning under his skin and his loyalty to The Flash. Her own suit is a much closer echo of Flash's, but there are thick yellow stripes delineating her split allegiance.

Flash watches them, golden eyes taking it in, and it's easy to sync up one's sight, easy to shake one's hand at the right frequency to hop from one universe to another, but another level to sync up for a conversation. But Barry stands slowly, holds up a hand in a Vulcan salute, and grins.

Wally kicks up dust when he stops at her side, looking at the two of them, a little jittery from Jesse's perspective. She must be a little slow from his. He's a blur from the statuesque Barry's. But he only takes two steps towards Barry before Barry takes off.

Jesse and Wally give chase. Their tactic is the same – run him down for as long as they can before splitting up. Wally stays tight on his heels while Jesse loops around for the ringer. It's fun to be the one who gets to spring the trap, tackling Barry at the end of a hard sprint before he has a chance to change course.

They're all panting hard, laughing between great whuffs of air, Wally bent over his knees, Jesse on top of Barry on the ground. "Pinned ya," she says, half-triumphant, half-breathless. "You're fast."

Barry grins, all teeth. "I'm The Flash." He pushes her up and off, getting to his feet and clapping a still doubled-over Wally on the back. "Nice work, buddy." Planting his hands on his hips, he looks out over the horizon at the risen sun and says, "See, we're not late. Right on time."

"On time was two hours ago," Wally grunts, straightening. His expression melts into a smile as he steps forward for a proper hug – and kiss; she can't resist – from Jesse. "Who's hungry?"

"I would never say no to brunch," she purrs, laughing when he picks her up, bridal-style. "My, what a lucky lady I am," she simpers, leaning dramatically back, hand over her forehead. "A _speedster_ to sweep me off my feet, Lordy."

"Don't think I can't sweep him off his," Wally says, nodding at Barry. "This is just 'hello' on Earth-1."

Barry snorts, says, "Last one there, buys," and takes off.

Wally doesn't move. Jesse drapes her arms around Wally's neck. "Giving him a head-start?" she asks, smiling.

Wally hums. "Savoring the moment," he admits.

Jesse presses a kiss to his cheek. "Go get him, Wonder Boy."

Barry isn't last, but he still buys.

. o .

They have a routine.

Jesse visits Earth-1 to boost the dynamic duo ("We're not calling ourselves that," Barry says; "I was," Wally replies), and Wally and Barry make a point of clearing their schedules if she needs some help wrangling metas on Earth-2. Thanks to the metahuman app and Officer West-Allen ("Your girlfriend's a badass;" "On my Earth and yours," Barry agrees) Jesse rarely needs helps. But every now and then a Zoom-level threat arises.

It's good to have backup.

The public is reluctant to embrace a speedster at first, but they warm up to a pack of speedsters surprisingly readily. Maybe the lone wolves scare them: Zoom and an imposter Flash weren't trustworthy. But Kid Flash, Jesse Quick, and the real deal Flash are a team, and they curry public favor with an impressive success rate. Jesse Quick is a permanent installation, on patrol every night. Kid Flash and The Flash are periodic treats, appearing at irregular intervals to help take down more dangerous targets. The effect is profound: crime rates in the city have plummeted.

She's considering branching out into Starling City to see if she might inspire a Team Arrow. There are no guarantees that it would be successful, let alone as effective as the Earth-1 equivalent, but there's hope. Hope is what people need. Especially when the impossible takes root: they need to know that the Pandora's box was full of _good,_ too.

Wally thinks it's a good strategy; Barry won't bite the bait. When Jesse presses, he reluctantly admits that he doesn't want to see Robert replacing his son as the Green Arrow. Even a universe away, it breaks his heart to know Oliver is _gone_. And unlike Barry and Jesse and Wally, no older version of Oliver Queen visits to offer them peace and consolation.

When non-speedsters die, they stay dead.

She visits Starling City on the coldest night of the year and tries to not let it bias her. But without a Team Arrow to keep the streets warm, there's an eerie vulnerability to it, a thin ice caution. She doesn't hear the crackle of it underfoot until it breaks, an electric red blast knocking her off her feet.

Rolling to recapture her momentum, she stands and slows down, down, down, taking in the sight. There are two more blasts on their way and she ducks, heart-pounding in her chest. _Who the hell are you?_

She looks up and her assailant is gone. Then a blast crashes over her back, throwing her to the ground. She tries to get up, but there's too much pressure on her, pinning her down, shake-shake-shake-shaking her until her teeth chatter, threaten to _shatter_ , and then—

It relents. "Who the hell are you?" her attacker echoes, standing behind her, not close enough to grab but _close_. Speed-senses catch a feminine waft of perfume, a figure roughly her height, all leather and caged rage.

Jesse exhales shakily, prying herself to her feet. Flashing forward – _take 'em out_ – she shouts when a rib-shattering blast kicks her off her feet.

"Speedsters," her attacker scoffs, disgusted. "When will you ever learn?"

Her ribs splinter when she stands, sending a wave of vertigo over her. "I come in peace," she gasps, one hand on her chest. "My name is Jesse Quick. I'm not here to hurt you."

"As if you could," her attacker replies. Jesse catches a glimpse of someone sauntering closer. "No, I'm here to hurt _you_. The Council was right. Guess there was a Speed-rat still rooting around here."

" _No_ ," a familiar voice says, and Jesse takes a knee to keep her consciousness, relief and fear warring for dominance.

" _There were three,_ " a second replies.

There's no playfulness when they fight, no joy when they close in. _Don't kill her,_ Jesse thinks, groaning when someone gets their hands under her shoulders. She sees Wally, anger and a fierce, uncontainable protectiveness radiating from him as he bears down on her attacker.

Distractingly, the hands under her shoulders tug her upright. She groans. "Hey, I gotcha," Barry whispers, "I'm here, it's okay. Can you walk?"

Jesse shakes her head, hunching over, and he apologizes twice before getting an arm under her shoulders and spiriting her away.

She doesn't know where he takes her – but she does startle the peanuts out of a stranger's hands, a sharp, "Holy _fuck_ " accompanying a great scramble of activity. They're in a darkened office, empty but for two people. High-rise, too, if the floor-to-ceiling glass windows are any indication. Jesse stares at two muzzles pointing at her, dizzy and disoriented. Then Felicity Smoak asks in a trembling voice, "Who the hell are you?"

Jesse thinks blearily, _Please don't shoot me._

" _I'm a friend_ ," Barry says in his warbled-out voice, supporting her. " _I need your help. Please._ "

"Why would we—" a man – Dig, John Diggle, Robert Queen's bodyguard – asks. The peanuts are still scattered around the floor.

" _I can show you Oliver, I can – I'm a speedster. I can show you Oliver Queen. But I need you to trust me. This is my friend. I need your help._ " He's talking so fast Jesse isn't even sure they hear him.

But they hear the most relevant part. Felicity's mouth runs dry. "Oliver—?"

" _Yes_ ," Barry says. " _Please, just – keep her safe. Don't unmask her. I'll be_ right _back._ "

Jesse is about to insist that he _not_ leave her with perfect strangers, thank you, but he's gone before the first syllable has formed in her mouth. A deep, resonating groan hits her; she blacks out for a moment, coming to with a pair of heavy, firm arms under her own. "A speedster," Dig is saying, sounding dazed.

"Holy fuck," Felicity agrees, but she doesn't have a plasma gun in hand anymore. Jesse considers that progress.

True to his word, Barry's back in six seconds. Dig reflexively socks him in the jaw. Barry reels and grunts, " _Geez, Dig_."

"How do you know my name?"

" _Long story._ " He crouches in front of Jesse, hands on her knees. " _Where does it hurt?_ "

"Chest," she groans, flinching when he reaches out to place a hand on her side. "Bar, don't," she says unthinkingly.

"'Bear'?" Felicity echoes.

"That some kind of code name?" Dig adds.

Barry sighs. " _No_." Then, a moment's hesitation, he straightens and looks at them both. Dig's gun is back up and on him. " _Trust is a two-way street,_ " he acknowledges, reaching up – Jesse sees Dig's hand twitch, ready to shoot – before unmasking. "I'm Barry Allen."

It's Jesse's turn to swear. " _Barry_ ," she says emphatically.

Dig lowers the gun. Felicity gapes. "You're – I thought you were a reporter."

"I – no," Barry clarifies gently. "I'm – from – another Earth?"

He says it like a question. Dig looks ready to pass out. "What do you mean, _another Earth?_ " Were there a trapdoor button, Jesse knows Barry would already be zipping down to the dungeons. Because Smoak Technologies absolutely would have a dungeon. It's what bored billionaires do in their free time, isn't it?

Her head hurts from how much her chest burns. "Barry," she says, reaching for him. He can cozy up to Team Arrow – _they aren't Team Arrow here_ – later. She's ashamed at how much she wants – needs – to hold a hand, but _shit_ , that hurt. "Where's—?"

" _Right here_ ," the most familiar voice in the world says. Kid Flash eyes his unmasked partner, the guns pointed at himself, and lets out a little huff of amusement. There's no joy. " _You really know how to pick them. All clear._ "

Barry nods and turns to Dig and Felicity. "I owe you an explanation," he says, pointedly slowly. "My friends need a place to stay. Just for the night. We'll be out of your hair for good before you know it."

"Too late," Dig says, holstering his gun. "Already know it. Wish I didn't."

Jesse leans her head on a hand, breathing as shallowly as she can. Wally says, " _Babe?_ "

The world ends with a whimper; she blacks out.

. o .

Things are civil when she wakes up.

Her chest is still a mess of needly pain, but voices remain at a conversational hush as Barry defends himself before Dig and Felicity. Wally is seated on a short, professional sofa next to her, her head on his thigh. They're both still suited up, but Wally projects enough Speed-warmth to remove any traces of discomfort at being in their suits for what feel like hours. She isn't sure they aren't being held hostage; with Barry's identity outed, they probably are. Wally pipes in to defend Barry's honor, his voice palpable next to her. She keeps her eyes closed and listens, content to let them sort it out.

. o .

When she blinks, they've graduated to drinking lemonade from Dixie cups.

It's surprisingly hospitable, Felicity perched on the arm of a chair, Dig and Barry still on their feet but visibly more settled. Jesse's stomach growls meaningfully at the reminder of _food_ , however unfulfilling, and she sits up with a thin grunt. "Ow," she says, accepting the Dixie cup Wally hands her unflinchingly. "Thank you."

"You're awake," Felicity notes.

Jesse takes a sip of Wally's drink. _I've been awake_ , she wants to reply, but she isn't so sure. Daylight is filtering in through the curtains, a faint cerulean glow lapping at the cityscape.

_Time moves more slowly in the Speed Force._

"We should go," she says, tired and grateful for the dampening, almost narcotic effect a little lemonade has on her discomfort. She isn't sure if her Speed Force or Wally's is more actively healing her; she can feel his like a blanket, draped around her even when he isn't. Either way, it's more bearable. Enough to stand. _Enough to run._

Wally is up and at her side, hooking a hand around her waist. "We should go," he repeats, looking at Barry.

For a moment, Jesse thinks Barry will shake his head, will insist on mending a bridge he didn't break here, will try to convince this Earth to follow the trajectory of his own. _You're Team Arrow,_ he won't say, _you're heroes where I come from._

"Okay," he says quietly.

"Barry," Felicity warns, and when he turns to her, Jesse sees it click, an _every-lifetime_ constant: _we're friends._ Even though Dig is uneasy, he trusts Felicity, and Felicity trusts Barry. It's a reassuring cycle.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

Felicity nods. Dig dips his own head in acquiescence.

Barry fishes his phone from a pocket, Speeding through the minutiae to present her with a short video. " _Why are you recording this?"_ a business-casual Oliver asks.

"For the grandkids," Barry replies, "as proof you weren't always paunch-bellied and bald."

Oliver pitches a perfectly aimed paper ball at his head, ending the video.

Felicity reaches up a hand to cover her mouth, a laughing sob escaping her. "He's –"

"Oh my God," Dig breathes, leaning forward, replaying the video – _Why are you recording this? For the grandkids —_ in a stupor of disbelief. "He's – that's – how?"

"I'm from another Earth," Barry repeats, apologetic. An Earth with a dream that isn't yours, he doesn't say.

Wally gets a firmer grip around her waist to support her and it occurs to her that neither of _them_ are part of her world, either. They're both from that Other Earth, the one they call primary and she calls quietly, _Earth-2._ They're not – were never – hers.

But they're speedsters. And that means family.

Barry pockets his phone, looking apologetically between the two of them. "I know you were – engaged," he says haltingly, taking Felicity's hands in his own. "And I am so, so sorry."

She shakes her head and steps forward, burying her face in his chest and sobbing, big, broken sounds that remind Jesse of the shattered pain in the older Wally's eyes when he looked at her.

A life After.

"I'm so sorry," Barry repeats into her hair. "I'm so, so sorry."

Dig just keeps swearing softly. Wally murmurs, "We should go."

It's not like them to leave one of their own behind, but Jesse knows Barry's needed with them more.

He looks up, meeting her gaze, and nods once. He'll catch up. He always does.

As for them – Wally lifts her, so gently, and it hurts but he can help it, his Speed-warmth encircling her until the pain is a distant thing. A detached thing.

In the Speed Force, they're almost untouchable.

. o .

There's nothing for Caitlin to fix when they stagger into Earth-1's STAR Labs.

It's a mark of the passage of time, how quickly her bones will heal, impossibly fast. She's still tired and sore and hungrier than she's been in days, a clawing, distracting hunger that feasts itself on every snack stash they have in close reach. Wally checks in with Caitlin and Cisco – according to them her assailant is a maleficent version of a new meta on the block by the name of Cynthia Reynolds – and Jesse relieves them of their most cherished snacks. Even Cisco doesn't complain, evidently too relieved to have them back.

Cisco asks, "Where's Barry?" It's like tying an unlaced shoe; a reflex so engrained it warrants blind, compulsive attention.

"Right here," the speedster himself replies, stepping into the room, smelling slightly burnt, metallic, coppery, that in-between space that says _dimensional travel._ His sagging shoulders crave a shower. Her own crave a bed. "Sorry I'm late."

"Wouldn't be you if you weren't," Wally pipes in, still quiet, attention still focused largely on her.

Barry's lips twitch in a smile. It's tired but triumphant. "What were you doing in Starling City?"

"Star … ling?" Cisco repeats.

"No Ray Palmer," Barry explains, "name never changed."

"Ah." Cisco bites down on a chip, curiosity satisfied.

"Scoping out the territory," Jesse admits. Barry's eyebrows arch. "I haven't been to Starling much," she explains, taking another gulp of someone's coffee. Cisco makes an affronted noise that dies in his throat when Wally shoots him a glare. "I figured … it might be time to branch out," she adds.

"Without us?" It's hard to read his tone. Hurt?

"There's more than one city on Earth-2," she says with a shrug, wincing slightly. "You can't always be there."

Barry doesn't have anything to say to that. Wally steps in. "You okay?" he asks seriously.

Jesse squeezes his arm. For good measure, she speeds a lap around the cortex, sending every unpinned paper flying. "I'm fine," she promises. "How'd you find me?"

"Cisco's paranoid," Barry explains.

"I am not," Cisco replies.

"Cisco's a stalker," Barry amends, calling up a screen and oh, hey. The suits. And their vitals. "Technically, I think this makes us all stalkers." Scratching the back of his neck, he shrugs. "We were playing Yahtzee when the computer pinged."

"You were playing Yahtzee without me?" Jesse says, feigning enormous hurt.

"We would never," Cisco backpedals immediately.

"Absolutely never," Barry agrees.

"I kicked their asses," Wally chimes in, chest puffing up in pride.

Jesse can't help it; she laughs. "Attaboy," she says, knocking her shoulder against his.

Caitlin, hitherto bystander, holds up a hand to cover the mouthpiece on her phone and asks, "Should I order five pizzas or six?"

Wally's stomach growls loudly; he and Barry respond at the same time, "Seven."

She orders eight.

. o .

Sometimes they're in perfect sync.

It happens when Iris shows up and the anomalies of Barry's Speed seem to come together, like he's reserving his Speed Force for her, or maybe like she is the true speedster and he just _is_ Speed, Speed which has fallen hopelessly in love with her and can only find its grounding through Barry. Jesse knows that's a discredit to Barry, who's been in love with Iris, by his own account, since before he knew what lovemeant _._ Maybe his love is just a sprawling joy that can't be captured in words and spills over, unleashing his Speed Force, a catastrophic, gorgeous thing that terrifies some and makes others fall in love with him. But Cisco's _two souls_ remark comes to mind, and she knows that Flash belongs as much to Barry as it does to Iris. When they're together, the intensity of his Speed Force is a visible thing, love like lightning. To follow Barry's Speed Force, just follow Iris' rhythm; the infinite is uncatchable, but its fixation is utterly tangible.

Wally is simpler: his lightning was made for her. Or hers was made for his. Perhaps, daringly, their lightning was made for each other, a place where lightning struck twice. They were created in the same storm. Their defaults were set to the same rhythm.

Finding a rhythm was as simple as not thinking about it: go with the flow.

They're standing on the same cliff, and they don't jump it, but Jesse feels the plunge when she draws in a deep, interminable breath and _runs_.

Wally catches up with ease, running alongside her, and they smile at each other, running like kids, fast and free.

A bolt of yellow lightning zig-zags past them, a challenge in the air.

With wolfish smiles, Jesse and Wally give chase.


End file.
